WORTH THE WAIT?
by deepdiveintoyoureyes
Summary: Set midway through Will and Alicia's affair, Will is spending too much time watching, wanting, and waiting for Alicia. He decides to turn the tables… Red hot smut and fluff for days.


Will found himself in his body anew. These past few months, since being with Alicia, he would look at his reflection in the mirror sometimes, amazed at himself and at what he could do for her. He stood taller, as the echoes of her pleas and of her calling his name chimed like bells in his head.

He would stare at her through the glass, wracked with want; needing to have her fall apart on his lap, his fingers, his tongue. He had always liked to _give,_ but now when he looked at himself he saw tools – all of these parts of himself that he could use to please her.

Pleasing her. It was all he thought about, and all he wanted to do.

That morning he had woken her up with his lips on her throat. When she opened her eyes he smiled at her and kissed down her chest, down her stomach. He pushed her thighs apart and kissed where he had been waiting to kiss, both gentle and firm and she twitched and bucked while he turned her on. Her breath grew shallow and suddenly,

"Oh would you look at that," he said, "I'm going to be late for work." He rolled away from her and her mouth fell open in disbelief.

As he walked off into the bathroom, she called after him, "Will, I, no… You can't do that!"

"I just did," he grinned.

She followed him into the shower but he wouldn't give her what she wanted. She rubbed against him like a cat, eyes pleading. He shook his head. Watching her needy was the sexiest thing he had ever seen.

"You gotta wait, baby," he said, reaching for a towel. "It'll be worth it, I _promise_."

At work that day he gazed out the window and thought about how – where – he would get her alone and make her unravel. He spent a lot of time at work these days thinking about just that.

He would sit at his desk and think about the nights he spent with her; the nights when he would lie her down, sit himself between her legs, work at her with both hands, and just _watch_ her. He watched for what made her squeak, what made her moan, and learned what made a squeak become a moan. He learned what she meant when she closed her eyes tight, and what she meant when she imploringly met his gaze.

When he sat there rubbing and stroking and curling his fingers over the parts of her that no one else was allowed near - the parts that he alone could touch - the intimacy of it all felt like a crushing weight on his chest. As he watched her respond to the things that he did to her, he had to bite down on his tongue to keep from saying, "I love you, I love you, I love you."

Other nights, he liked to lie her down and kiss lavishly down to his favorite place, loving the feel of her wet softness against his lips and tongue. In the past he had been told he was good at this, and he had always liked it, but he had seen it as a means to an end, until now. Now, he felt it a sacred thing, an act of worship, as he buried himself there and cherished her with his mouth.

At first she would say, "don't stop, don't stop," begging and breathy, but he learned fast, attentive and keen. Sometimes, his favorite, she would grab his head and hold him so that he _couldn't_ stop – somehow taking control from flat on her back.

She used to tense up, uncertain, when he would breathe her in, needy and passionate. But she got used to it, used to the way he would put his face where he felt it properly belonged and just inhale like a man starved for air.

The sharp ring of his office phone snapped him back into the room. His gaze darted back from the window as he fumbled for the handset.

"I'll be right down, Diane. Is everybody ready?"

During the meeting, he avoided Alicia's eyes around the large table. But he could see her looking at him; the hairs on his neck stood up under her gaze. When he knew she was watching but no one else was, he ran – so subtly – his tongue against his top lip. Anyone else would think he was lost in thought. But Alicia's groin clenched at the message, and he smirked when she cleared her throat and shuffled her papers.

Having her at work was the best and worst part of his job. He watched her all day. He watched the sway of her gait, the purse of her lips when she was thinking, he watched a million tiny things that he had come to know and come to love, wildly, desperately. For the first time in his life he understood the word _covet._ It was thrilling, and it was terrifying.

After the meeting, he called her aside. "Alicia, we've got the labs back for Schlegoff," he said, without looking up, and she knew to follow him.

He took them into an empty elevator, and hit 1. As 27 became 26 and then 25, she looked at him expectantly. He walked her wordlessly back into the wall, and roughly pushed a hand between her legs, climbing until it could go no further and then sliding his fingers against her.

22… 21… 20…

Her knees shook. _Finall_ y, she thought, exasperated by the arousal that she had burned with all morning. He rubbed firm and fast over her, knowing how much she needed the release, and he stared into her eyes all the while as he built up the layers of her pleasure. 15… 14…

Getting close, she grabbed desperately at him, fingertips bruising the back of his neck with her urgency. 10… 9…

"Oh Will," she sighed, nearing the edge.

He looked at her and stopped his hand.

She stared back, bewildered and needing.

He shook his head and pulled her skirt back down.

Her mouth rounded to cry out his name in protest, but she couldn't speak, and moments later the elevator pinged 1 and the doors opened. With a wink he walked out and she clutched onto the rail for support.

The doors closed and she rode back up to 27 trying to catch her breath.

As she walked into her office, her phone flashed.

 _6pm, The Templeton, room 1414_

 _I can't wait until then_ she typed, hands shaking.

 _It's 3 hours. How many years did you make me wait for you?_ came his reply.

 _I'm gonna help myself out_ she threatened.

 _Don't you dare._

And that was that.

She ached for him all afternoon, and she sat at her desk, flushed and distracted and wanting him with a fury she had never known.

Her mouth was dry as she knocked on 1414. She had scanned the lobby, as was her routine. She didn't think anyone had recognized her, and the elevator was empty.

He opened the door, tie gone and top few buttons undone. She almost threw herself at him, slamming the door behind her. He laughed but she pressed her mouth over his and kissed him, hungry, and he ran his hands up and down her back and he loved her body and he loved her, and he was going to make her feel _so damn good_ he could barely see straight.

Her hands were at his belt and then his zipper and then inside his boxers and he murmured sternly, " _Wait_." He had to work hard to stay in control, and he walked her back to the bed and peeled off her clothes before lying her down.

"Now, where was I?" he said slyly as he hovered over her. "Somewhere about here, I believe?" he grinned, moving his mouth down her body until his lips floated inches above where she craved him.

She arched her hips up towards his face. He smiled, gratified. Then he put his open mouth on her and she gasped and cried, "Oh god Will, don't stop." Sometimes he felt boyish, looking up, wide-eyed, for her approval. All the validation and affirmation he had ever wanted lived in the cadence of her "Oh god Will, don't stop."

He gave her a little more, listening to her squeak and then moan, and then he did stop. He had made her wait all day; he would squeeze as much out of this as he could.

She pressed her head back into the pillow. Her need pulsed in her core, sore now, almost painful.

"Please…" she whimpered.

He let it ring in his ears. He liked the sound of that.

"Please, Will," she tried. He liked the sound of that even more.

"I _need…_ " she yelped, her groin aching.

"What do you need, baby?" he grinned, licking his lips. She grimaced.

"I need… to come. I need… you… to make me come," she stammered, giving him what she knew he wanted, so that he would give her what she wanted.

"That's right, Alicia," he said, low and serious and god she couldn't _see_ with lust.

He put his tongue and his fingers back to work and she was so charged from the build up and the power play that an orgasm slammed rock hard into her, instant, immense and shuddering. The _release,_ finally, of everything, throbbed fiercely through her whole quivering body as she was silenced by the rush of sensation.

As she came down, panting and shivering, he slowed his hand and mouth. But she wasn't done.

Desperate and uninhibited, she placed a daring hand on the back of his head and rocked her hips against his face. He groaned, enamored, happy to give her as much of him as she wanted, and he quickly hardened at her brazenness and at her need for him.

When she writhed against him, when she clenched around him, he felt more powerful than he had in his life. More powerful, more impressive, more worthy, even, than when they'd put up that sign with his name on it. _Stern, Lockhart and Gardner,_ it had read, and he had stood, hands on hips, smiling the way that most of his friends were now smiling over new babies. He knew that he would get dropped when people abbreviated, he knew they would call them "Stern Lockhart," but he liked his last place. He liked the echo of it. He felt like everything he had ever worked for was won with that sign. But now, between Alicia's legs, he felt like a god, and as he made her thighs shake violently aside his face when he brought her to another blistering climax, the satisfaction pulsed through each inch of his body and throbbed deep into his groin.

"Oh my god," she trembled, gratified now, "Oh my _god,_ Will."

He shuffled up the bed to lie beside her and she pulled herself into his arms.

"Mmmm," he groaned, kissing her neck.

"That was _mean_ ," she pouted, in mock complaint.

"I never said I was a nice guy," he smiled, as she reached down to touch him. "So…" he kissed her again, stilling her hand for a moment. "…Was that worth the wait?" he raised an eyebrow.

She exhaled a smile. "Yes," she conceded, and she shuddered thinking about the morning and the elevator and the past, scorching, few minutes. "It was."

He looked into her eyes, serious now, and earnest. "I thought it would be," he said, brushing tenderly back her hair from her face. "Good things usually are."


End file.
